A League all its Own
by Infectious Laughter
Summary: A dysfunctional group of troubled super-humans are pushed together to form a super team to save the world—highly improbable, considering they can barely save themselves. AU. Starring superhero!BAU.
1. Chapter 1

A League all its Own

A/N: Uh, bear with me on this one. I absolutely love the idea of our favorite team as a superhero team. This will be majorly AU. I tried to base the moods and interactions of the team like they were during Emily's leave, extrapolated a little bit. Some characters I have a really hard time writing with, so if you feel anyone is OOC, please tell me and I will do my best to fix it. The same goes for any typos. Thank, you, and please enjoy!

Summary: A dysfunctional group of troubled super-humans are pushed together to form a super team to save the world—highly improbable, considering they can barely save themselves. AU. Starring superhero!BAU

'_Thoughts'_

"Talking"

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><p>Chapter One<p>

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><p><em>In 1968 on a top secret government lab in the El Muertian desert, a classified project commenced. Under the authority of the government branch known as the BAU, some of the most brilliant scientists and engineers of our generation strove to make a superhuman serum to better combat the rising forces of evil. They succeeded. However, several undercover spies from a competing nation tried to make off with a vial of the substance. The faithful guards protecting the project refused to allow that to happen. They pursued and eventually cornered the spies. The spies knew that they had failed the mission, but they had planned for this situation. In case their mission was compromised, they had planted several bombs on crucial parts of the structure's foundation and on the three giant vats holding the reserve superhuman serum. With the single press of a detonator button the entire building, laboratory, and the three giant vats exploded in what has been nick-named "the Big Bang". But the outcome of the explosion was far better than anyone could have imagined. During the explosion, the contents of the three vats were superheated and thrown into the atmosphere in a gaseous form. This vapor form of the superserum mixed with the various water droplets, ice crystels, and dust that make up clouds, forming so called SuperStorms that would dump active superhuman serum on the earth. In the aftermath of this incident, hundreds have reported extraordinary abilities- some minor, others major (suspiciously all reports came in after some sort of rain storm). But not all of these "superhumans" used their new-found powers for good. In order to fight these new super-evil villains, the BAU recruited a number of incredible individuals to protect innocent civilians and the world. They are known as the X-League. These are their stories…<em>

Because I'm just an ordinary person that did some extraordinary things. ~Donna Summer

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><p>Aaron Hotchner tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangling around his legs and waist, dragging him down.<p>

…_Elle's smiling face as she joked off with JJ…_

He was wet with sweat and breathing heavily, as if he had run a thousand mile race.

…_Gideon's half-hidden smile of fatherly pride as he watched the team he had built working together…_

The world of dreams couldn't rescue him from the nightmare of real life. Even in this peaceful sanctum the horrors of reality prevailed.

… _Jordan's seductive smirk as she flirted with Morgan…_

His world was filled with fire and heat-

…_smiling faces turning into masks of horror…_

-a scream ripped out of his throat-

…_pain tearing apart his body…_

-as everything he knew-

…_fire, consuming everything in its path…_

-was destroyed with the single press of a detonator button-

Reality and nightmare blended together with the sound of one terrible explosion.

Aaron Hotchner shot straight up in his bed, panting for breath. After a few seconds of deep breathing he looked around. He was home.

In his bed.

With Jack sleeping safely in the room down the hall.

He was awake.

Hotch put his head down in his hands and began to weep.

.

.

"Dr. Reid?"

The doctor in question didn't even glance up from his work.

"Spencer?"

Yup. Completely oblivious to anything happening outside of his little world of chromosomes and ribozymes.

"Hey, kid!"

Spencer jumped up, popping his head up from his work so fast that he lost his balance and fell off of his chair, dumping the papers covering the table onto the floor.

Clyde Schacht, a fellow employee at Biotech Industries, laughed broadly and helped the clumsy scientist on the floor pick up the papers.

"You ok?"

Spencer nodded, dusting off his rumpled lab coat and adjusting his glasses from their crooked angle. He looked over to Clyde and his eyes grew wide at the sight of his papers in his friend's hands. He quickly snatched up the files, acting flustered—even more so than normally.

"Erm, yes… what was that you, ah, wanted?"

"Nothing important, Doc, just wanted to see when you were heading out."

"Oh, yes! Er… I'll probably be staying a little bit later… there are some things that I must finish, then I'll be out." He stopped shuffling the papers on his desk and looked at the guard with a peculiar half-smile."You don't have to wait for me. I'll close up after I'm done here."

"Another late night at the office? No hot dates you gotta get to?"

"You could say that. And seriously, me with a hot date?"

Clyde laughed again and clapped a big meaty hand on Reid's shoulder. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you never left the building."

"How are you sure you don't know better?"

The burly man left the lab chuckling to himself."Drive safe, kid!"

"I'll do my best!"

Spencer turned back to his work, marveling over his lucky break. He took a quick scan over the papers in his hands. How was it that Clyde hadn't seen these? He carefully stowed the files stamped "CLASSIFIED" away his messenger bag. He secretly smiled to himself at the multiple lives he led. Socially awkward genius by day…

…renowned superhero in one of the most crime-ridden cities in America by night.

.

.

Morgan knew he had anger problems.

If he wanted to go easy on himself, he would say he was just over-protective.

If he wanted to be truthful, he would admit he had issues.

But right now, he was past angry. He had left that point a long time ago. Right now, he was _fuming_.

There were several different branches that operated under the protection of the BAU, the most renowned of them being the X-League. But the BAU sheltered various vigilantes, mutants, and other extraordinary beings all over the country. In every major city across America, superhumans of every shape, size, species and ability defended the city in their own special way. It was how Derek Morgan had gotten recruited for the X-League. He had been a warden for the city of Chicago for too many years then he wished to remember, so when two agents had appeared in his house with black suits and sunglasses asking if he wanted to join the X-League, he snatched the offer up right away. There were too many memories in Chicago. Too many nightmares he couldn't leave behind.

He remembered his first day on the team. The agent before him, David Rossi (aka the Don) had retired –sadly uncommon in the world of superhumans. Thus his welcoming was a little warmer than it would have normally been. In the eleven going on twelve years he had been on the league, there had been no changes. Sure, there were substitutes—even superheroes could get sick, but no real casualties. But this time, this time was completely different. Three members of his family were killed. Three! And Morgan wasn't sure he was ready to let them go. And here Strauss just wanted them to forget about their losses, forget about their_ family_, and let some strangers barge into their unit!

By the looks of the faces around him, he wasn't the only one shocked. In fact, Hotch was the only one without his jaw scraping the floor.

"…David Rossi has graciously offered to be taken out of retirement to assist you, but we are still missing two more agents." She laid some files on the table.

"Here are some individuals with some promise, I would like you to look at them and decide which ones you would like to join your team so-"

"Wait, wait, hold up." Morgan held up his hand." Half of our team just died, and you want us to pick some strangers to replace them?" His incredulous tone barely masked boiling rage.

Strauss looked mildly ruffled. "Well, yes. This team needs to be assembled as quickly as possible. Crime won't just take a break because you need time to mourn."

Ouch. She had touched a nerve there. Morgan (rage now fully obvious in his eyes), leapt up from the table, but Hotch jumped in before his subordinate could be charged with assault.

"Fine," said Hotch.

"These two."

He grabbed two files from the stack at random.

Strauss frowned. "Are you sure you don't-"

"Yes, yes I'm sure." Hotch spoke in a short, brusque tone, which was better than anyone else on the team could have managed.

Strauss, incorrectly assuming that Hotch might be easier to persuade, softened her voice and spoke with a compassionate tone.

"Aaron, I realize how hard this is for your team, but you just don't understand how imperative it is to get your team back in the field and-"

"No. You don't understand. Look, _Director_. We'll make this simple for you. Three of our family members just died. We haven't even buried their bodies and you want us to replace them like they never even existed. Forgive us if we're not exactly sunny side-up, happy-go-lucky, ah-well-the-world-won't-end. But that's what we feel like right now."

A rebellious Penelope Garcia stood in front of Strauss, her head held high defiantly. Overcoming the shock that their usually optimistic tech kitten was behaving so impudently, the team leveled Strauss with their own insolent glares.

Knowing when to yield, Strauss picked up the rest of the files and left the room.

The team kept up the appearance of obstinate insurgency until Strauss's back had disappeared out of the bullpen and into her office. Then Garcia's shoulders slumped and she gave a little sniff. JJ immediately went over to give her a caring hug and Morgan rubbed her back with a soothing hand.

"I hate this." JJ declared.

Morgan sighed. "So do we Jayje, so do we…"

.

.

In a plane somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, a woman wept.

She was glad that her seat partner was asleep- she had taken all the necessary precautions to make sure that the stranger knew she did not want conversation: headphones in, nose buried in book, armrest up in a makeshift barrier between her and the rest of the world. But now that the plane was dark enough to hide her tears, she allowed her stoic expression to crumble and let herself cry. She cried for her friends—now ten feet under thanks to a man's thirst for revenge. She cried for innocence lost and the weight on her shoulders that wouldn't go away. Yes, she even cried for the man who caused all these tears, because it wasn't his fault at all—it was hers. But most of all, Emily Prentiss cried for herself.

Eventually she ran out of tears and her sobbing dwindled into quiet sniffles. She dug in her notoriously messy purse for some tissues to wipe away the evidence of her weakness. Lipstick, wallet, a pen, phone, a book, a—wait? What was that? She pulled out a folder that she was sure she hadn't packed. Carefully, she flipped it open. Her eyes flitted up to the title stamped on the front. Her mouth dried and her heart stopped. She took a careful glance left, right, and behind her before glancing back at the folder to make sure her eyes had not mistaken her. Yes, there it was in big, black, capital letters. Her pulse started racing. Yes, this could be exactly what she was looking for- a fresh, new start, with people who accepted her for who she was. Yes, this could be it!

In bold letters, the folder that brought her so much hope proclaimed "THE X-LEAGUE INITIATIVE."

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><p>Reviews are the only reward that a writer receives. Please review!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

A League all its Own Chapter Two

A/N: I'm trying to spit out these chapters as fast as I can. There will be a set schedule later on, but for now they'll just come as the will. Thanks for the reviews!

"Talking"

_Thoughts/Telepathy_

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><p>Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. ~Khalil Gibran<p>

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. ~Kelly Clarkson

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><p>Chapter Two:<p>

She had been twenty-two when she first met him, a college student struggling by on ramen noodles and soccer scholarships. He had five years on her, a young cop with a sparkle in his eye. They met in a bar, when he had challenged her to a game of darts. She had given him a sweet smile and said, "Sure," then proceeded to cream his sorry ass. He fell in love with her the second she turned to him and gave him another seemingly innocent smile, asking if he wanted to play three out of five.

He had asked for a second date, and it had gone amazing. Then there was a third, a fourth, and before they knew it he was on one knee asking her to marry him. Her eyes had lit up and he knew that on the tip of her tongue had been an enthusiastic, "Yes!" –but then she hesitated. She had stared at the ring in his hand.

"Will, do you love me?" she asked.

He had looked at her like it was the dumbest question ever. "Of course I do, JJ."

She was still biting her lip nervously. "No matter what?"

Will captured her hand in his and stared her directly in the eyes.

"JJ, I will keep on loving you until I die. Even if you walk out of this room right now and go get married to some handsome billionaire (she smiled a bit and giggled) with a Porsche and enough money to buy you the world, I will still love you. No matter what."

She stared at their hands entwined together.

"Even… _even if I could do this_?"

Will jumped up in shock and stared at her.

"Wha…wait… what did you just do?"

"_What, this?"_

"Yeah!" He sat down, still stunned. "JJ, did you just, ah, talk in my head?"

"_Yes."_

"Woah, ok."

What do you see to a person who just talked to you in your head?

"So… have you had this- erm- ability for a long time?"

Gosh, that sounded lame, even to him.

She gave a small smile and glanced down to her lap.

"Yeah, for about as long as I can remember."

He was relieved that she had spoken in her normal voice.

She laid her hand on his. "Hey, are you ok with this?"

He vaguely noticed in the back of his bewildered mind that her hand still felt small and warm. He stroked the hand on top of his lightly with his thumb, reacquainting himself with it. Yes, there was the odd callous on the side of her right pinky, and the slight pucker of the scar on her thumb. This was still his Jayje, superpowers or not.

He smiled and said in a smooth Southern drawl, "'Course I am, darling, but you still haven't given me and answer. So," he pulled out the ring from his pocket once again, "Will you marry me?"

JJ embraced Will and whispered in his ear.

"How could I say no?"

.

.

Penelope Garcia may not look like it, but she is scheduled. At six forty-five AM she pulls herself out of her soft, warm bed at the sound of her tropical birds alarm and jumps into a hot shower. Then she does her hair and makeup and watches early-morning cartoons as she eats her breakfast. Finally, she drives her car to her favorite coffee shop, _Spill the Beans,_ orders her poison of choice, and is at the office by eight thirty. It's a fairly foolproof schedule—but today; today Murphy's Law seemed to hate her with a passion.

Her alarm had sounded thirty minutes later than normal. She had jumped into the shower… and nearly jumped out! The water was freezing cold! Her toaster and microwave didn't work correctly so she was forced to make her breakfast the old-fashioned way on her barely-ever used stove. She had absolutely no time left, so she jumped into her car—only to find that it didn't start. She had called a taxi, hoping and praying that Lady Luck would find her in favor again. It seemed to have worked, for the taxi showed up right then. She jumped in and collapsed into the car, happy to just rest for a while. She was contently doing touch-ups on her makeup when the taxi jerked to a halt. She slammed forward, bashing her head on the front seat and successfully smearing her newly-applied lipstick.

"What the…? Why are you stopped?"

"This is your stop."

"No," she glanced out the window just to make sure, "No, it's not."

"This is your stop!" the obviously foreign cabbie insisted.

"No! Now go, I'm going to be late for work!"

"This is your stop! Get out!"

"No!"

"Lady, out!"

"I will not you irritating piece of… hey!"

The cab driver had shoved her out of the door and dumped her on the sidewalk. She got onto her feet and dusted herself off, muttering some choice words about the cabbie under her breath.

She tramped down the sidewalk for a while, reminding herself why you never wore seven-inch red pumps on a jog(no matter how hot they made her legs look) when a heavenly smell caught her attention.

_Coffee_.

She floated along as if in a dream until she was in the warm, bright, coffee shop. The line was short (for once) and soon she had her cold hands wrapped around a deliciously hot cup of coffee. She was just bringing it up to her lips for a sip when…

_~bump~_

"Holy…!"

Penelope stared, distraught, at the young man she had just poured her scorching-hot coffee on. He was performing a weird dace as he batted at his now brown-stained shirt.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! Is there anything I can do? Um…"

Garcia grabbed a napkin and began patting the coffee off.

"No, no, it's fine, really," the gentleman insisted.

"I'm so sorry!" Garcia apologized again, not knowing what to do.

"Trust me," the young man said, "this thing happens to me all the time."

Penelope, now feeling better, smiled at the easy-going gentleman who had been so kind to her—and he was pretty cute, too!

"Still, I feel like I gotta make this up to you somehow. Here, let me buy you a coffee, my treat."

The kid shook his head. "No thanks, I'm good."

"Baby-cakes, let me rephrase that. I am _going_ to buy you a coffee. So what kind do you like?"

Despite the endearing and unexpected nickname, the young man only blinked once, then smiled and nodded. Yep, she had probably just scarred an innocent being for life—again.

He liked overly-sweet coffee, she learned, and had just moved here from Vegas. He had worked at some kind of lab for some big fancy sounding industry—Bio-something. He was also totally cute and so huggable she just wanted to shove him in her purse and run, although those long legs probably wouldn't fit in. She ended up telling him a lot more than was probably safe… man, she _really_ hoped he wasn't a criminal.

.

.

David Rossi had been here for two hours. Two. Hours. The BAU had obviously not heard of the word magazine, he had misplaced his just-in-case-of-an-emergency book he always stowed away in his bag, and the TV mounted on the wall only showed the Golden Girls and PBS programming. He liked Sesame Street as much as the next guy, but two hours straight and he was ready to show Big Bird some of his own little birdies.

"_Who do they have running this joint now?"_ he wondered aggravatedly. _"Because I will have to be sure to inform them that David Rossi and his superior experience don't take kindly to being shoved into a corner and forgotten."_

A brisk click-clack of heels sounded down the hallway.

"_Finally!"_ He thought. _"A professional!"_

He stood up and smoothened his rumpled shirt out—it had been clean and ironed in the morning when he put it on—making sure he didn't look like he had been sitting in a chair for two hours, even though he had. A flamboyantly dressed blonde in what seemed to be twelve-inch high heels approached—then rushed passed him with a harried look on his face, barely acknowledging his presence. _Really! _He thought agitatedly. He slumped back into his seat with a sigh.

A few minutes later, another tap-tap of shoes could be heard. This step was different, not the sharp clap of heels or the sophisticated tap of Italian loafers or other acclaimed dress shoes, but rather the soft, muffled beat of rubber on linoleum. Rossi watched as a form rounded the corner, hope rising in his chest… and his glimmer of hope was smashed. A young, gangly man dressed in truly horrendous clothing stepped into the room. He shyly smiled at Rossi and took a seat. Rossi watched enviously as the man pawed through his messenger bag before taking out a book. Smart.

Another minute passed.

Two minutes.

They were closing in on ten minutes when he finally heard a clip-clap of heels once again.

He straightened up from the slouch his chair seemed to have been sculpted in and leaned forwards in slight anticipation—only slight, though. He now knew not to be _too_ hopeful. The steps were hesitant, slow, but still firm. A dark-haired woman rounded the corner. Rossi felt his heart lift. She looked hopeful…and then he noticed the laminated pass clipped onto her shirt was clearly marked, VISITOR. He was able to conjure up a half-hearted smile of greeting at her. The man a few seated over barely glanced up from his book.

More waiting.

Endless _agony_!

Could a person really die of boredom?

Just as he finished deciding what the inscription on his gravestone would be when (not if, _when_) he died of boredom, a smartly dressed young lady with professionalism written all across her face stepped into the room. He dully glanced up from the corner of his magazine in which he was scribbling R.I.P. David Rossi.

"Sorry for the wait," Wait! The two and a half hours of boredom he had been forced to suffer through was merely called a wait! ", but the Director is ready to see you now."

Thank God!

Rossi practically jumped from his seat. But wait—the nice woman was still talking.

"-due to some…developments, the director asked to see all of you." Everyone in the room looked at each other warily.

"Will that be a problem?"

A few seconds of silence passed. The woman (David no longer felt inclined to call her nice; in fact, he was barely civil enough to call her a woman) took that as a yes. She nodded her head abruptly and began walking down the hall. There was a moment of disorientation, then the three others began hurrying after her. They passed through several corridors, walked up numerous staircases, and finally arrived at a imposing metal door, menacingly labeled Conference Room 8. The secretary opened the door.

David barely kept his mouth shut. Well, this was just the icing on the cake, wasn't it?

Standing uniform and poised in the room was Director Erin Strauss.

.

.

_In the Sewer Tunnels of New York City…_

He was a street rat. Scum, useless, thief, hobo, good-for-nothing idiot—he had all been called all these names and many more. And he had believed it.

He had heard it from his drunk-ass father, his prostitute mother, his mother's dealer down the street, the man on the corner shop, he heard from everyone he met. And after twelve years or so, it had become customary. So he accepted it.

Then his parent's debts caught up with them, and he was left crouching in a puddle of his parents blood with a gun pointed at his head. He had stared straight into the gunman's eyes and waited for death.

It never came.

The gunman had chuckled, put the gun away, spat at him and said he wasn't worth the bullet.

They had burned his house to the ground—not that it had been worth much to him—but that night he had been forced to sleep outside in the cold.

It had rained that night.

And his life had changed forever.

Because the day after he had killed for the first time.

He had been in the store, standing in line, minding his own business, when a muscle-bound thug (typical in this part of town) had quite obviously cut right in front of him. Anger risen up in him but instead of it instantly simmering down, it grew hotter and angrier and more intense until…

BOOM!

…he had—quite literally—blew.

27 people had been killed that day. He had woken up in an abandoned alley on the other side of town, scared out of his mind.

He resolved to never,ever do that—whatever _that_ was—again.

And he had succeeded. For around 25 years he had survived without _that _happening again. He had grown up, gone to school, met a girl, made a name for himself, raised a family, and for once in his life he was truly happy.

And in the blink of an eye, everything he knew was gone.

He had been so_ mad_. It was an explosive anger that he had only felt once before, once on that day, that terrible day. He had tried so hard to control it—and then it had occurred to him.

Why should he control it?

There was no real explanation, was there?

He was given this power for a reason and he should be allowed to use it however he saw fit.

And he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

So he had walked onto the train calmly and released his anger in a very…_explosive_… manner.

Oh yes, the X-League was going to pay.

They were going to pay for his pain.

They were going to pay in _blood_.

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><p>AN: And so the plot thickens... we see a little of JJ, Will, Garcia, Rossi (P.S. He is the last new team member), with small cameos by Spencer, Emily, and Strauss. No Morgan or Hotch, we will see them next chapter though, so be patient! :) I want to involve as many Criminal Minds characters as I can so if you have a suggestion, please tell! And... did we get a glimpse of our villain at the end there?

R&R stands for Read and Review!


	3. Chapter 3

A League all its Own: Chapter Three

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><p>I have not yet begun to fight!~ John Paul Jones<p>

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

Chapter Three:

Erin Strauss was a formidable woman.

Director of the X-League, former BAU agent, and (quiet briefly) a part of the X-League herself, she ran her little part of the world with an iron fist. For the most part.

For you see, Erin Strauss had her secrets. And secrets were very hard to keep in an international espionage agency.

_Very_ hard.

_Very, very, very_ hard.

_Very, very, very, very_…ok, you get the point.

Nonetheless, Erin Strauss had guarded some of her rather more… dubious… secrets as fiercely as a bulldog. And it had worked, to a certain extent.

But every vault has a flaw, and every wall has a weak point. Erin Strauss's just happened to go by the name of David Rossi—her former partner.

He had coached a young, headstrong, arrogant, foolhardy and totally inexperienced Probationary Agent Erin Strauss into a mostly acceptable Senior Agent Erin Strauss (in other words, he had told her when it was appropriate to break someone's neck and when it was best to just blindfold them and dump them in Mexico).

They had long since parted paths… she had moved on with her life and he with his, and all of those embarrassing secrets and rookie mistakes had disappeared with him—until now.

Both a little older, a little wiser, they stood in the room face to face for the first time in nearly 20 years. And Rossi was _seething mad_.

Oh dear.

.

.

Spencer Reid was having a spectacularly ordinary day. Ok, so the brightly-dressed woman who had spilt coffee on him had been rather unique, and the lady who had refused to give up her gun in the line for security was rather funny, and the fact that he was now due for a meeting with the _Director_ of the _BAU_ for a position on the _X-League_ was rather extraordinary, but besides that, normal day.

Who was he kidding? His heart was in his throat and butterflies threatened to burst out of his stomach. This was no normal job interview. This was an audition for a spot on the X-League, and if he was a tiny bit nervous, then he could be excused, couldn't he? So he arrived in the lobby, gave a small smile to the other man in the…wait, was that David Rossi? The urge to go over and ask for an autograph was overpowering, but somehow he managed to maneuver his way to a seat without totally breaking the mask of professionalism he was straining to keep on his face. He needed to relax. A book! A book would calm his nerves. So he cracked open a dusty novel that he always kept in his possession, and started to read.

After what seemed like a couple of minutes, a voice intruded in on his thoughts. He glanced up. A woman in a severe bun and utterly militant pencil skirt was speaking. He snapped out of his observations just in time to pay attention to the last part of the lady's speech.

"…director asked to see all three of you."

He cast a glance around the room. There were three of them? Oh yeah, there was the dark-haired women he saw arguing with security earlier sitting in the corner.

"Will that be a problem?"

Wait! What would be a problem? Would it seem douchish if he asked? He gave another frantic sweep of his eyes across the room.

Oh no! The lady was walking away! What should he do? He glanced at the other around the room. The dark-haired woman was stuffing her phone into her purse and standing up as if to leave. Spencer followed her example and stuffed his book into his messenger bag (not a purse!) before standing up and following the other three.

They walked down a hallway, took a left, walked down that hallway, took another left, stopped at the elevators approximately three-quarters down the hallway, took it three floors down, exited right, walked down two more hallways, took a left, walked down half of the corridor, took a flight of stairs (there were 13 stairs… an omen?), walked down another hallway, took another right, and finally stopped at a metal door.

Spencer gulped.

Here it goes…

.

.

"Erin Strauss." Rossi spat the words out of his mouth as if they had a bad taste to them.

"Mr. Rossi." Director Strauss managed to say his name in a way that sounded as if she had just uttered a curse.

She turned to the young man Emily had noticed reading a book in the corner of the lobby.

"Dr. Spencer Reid," Smiling, she reached out to shake his hand, "I have heard so much about you."

The doctor (really, he was a _doctor_?) smiled shyly and avoided the Director's handshake, giving an awkward wave instead. Emily didn't blame him. The woman smiled like a snake and acted like a cat who had just caught a canary.

Caught slightly off guard by Dr. Reid's greeting, Director Strauss turned to Emily.

"Emily Prentiss!" Strauss exclaimed, and went to hug her as if greeting an old friend. Which, in a way, they were. Surprised, but well coached to conceal her surprise, Emily accepted the embrace. As soon as the Director let go, Emily resisted the urge to go shower.

"It has been so long!"

"Yes," Emily agreed, letting a warm, easy tone (fake, but sounding 100% genuine) slip into her professional persona, "far too long."

Strauss sighed.

"Sadly, I have not called you here just to catch up on old stories."

"Oh, yes, because you would just _love_ to relive the golden days," David muttered in a sarcastic tone.

Strauss's eyes flashed, and her smile became sharper on the edges, but she chose to ignore the comment.

"I have called you here because you are all exceptional individuals, with brilliant talents and abilities. As I am sure you have heard, the X-League has suffered some…losses, in the last month. The nature of these losses make the team…compromised for the job I have in mind for you."

Strauss paused and considered the words she was about to say.

"A few months ago, we became aware of a new criminal activity stirring in the Underground. He was powerful, relentless, and brutal. We knew that we had to eliminate him before he became a serious threat to the citizens. So we sent our best agents under. They lasted for three weeks each, then each one of them disappeared."

"Disappeared? " Emily questioned.

"Dropped off the grid. Stopped all communications. We have no clue where anyone of them are."

There was a small quiet as everyone in the room considered that piece of information.

"Then the attacks came. Small, sabatoge-like actions at first. A few hits on various outposts across the country, some attacks on weapon storages, fires in warehouses, explosions in factories, you know the type. But then the heists became bigger, until finally he hit the jackpot."

Strauss paused for dramatic effect.

"The Record's Vault."

A shocked silence filled the room.

The Record's Vault (or the Vault, as it was most commonly known as) was heavily guarded crypt located at who-knows-where in who–knows-what. It held all the information, documentation, evidence, research, history, identification, registration, and regular general knowledge that anyone and everyone knows about the various vigilantes, mutants, and super-humans who have inhabited the earth. This included an eye-witness account of the events of the Big Bang and a list with all the given names and addresses of every super-human on the planet. Emily Prentiss's own name was one that list, as was Erin Strauss's, David Rossi's, and (so she assumed) Dr. Spencer Reid's. It was the most dangerous and valuable list in the world.

And it had been stolen.

.

.

_In an unknown location…_

"You _stole_ it?"

Cue sarcastic eyeroll and smirk.

"That's what I just said. My, my, my, do those explosions damage your hearing?"

"No…I don't think so—but that's not the point! You robbed the Vault!"

"I robbed the Vault."

"Oh no, this is bad, this is very bad… we're criminals! I'm gonna go to prison, we'll never get out—I don't wanna go to prison!"

"We were criminals long before we stole from the Vault."

"We? _We_? _I_ don't remember breaking into the most highly protected safe in the entire world! I'm sorry, but this is going too far. I was fine with the little things, blowing up a couple of building, snitching a couple of guns, but this… I can't deal with this stuff. I'm sorry, Teddy, but you're on your own."

The sound of a chair being pushed back and the muffled footsteps of a person walking away.

"Giving up so soon?" A sigh and a shrug. "Well, I guess that that's the problem of working with a coward."

The footsteps stop.

"I never knew what Annie saw in you. But it's ok, leave. Leave your wife's death unavenged. Leave your children's dead bodies without justice. Let them rot, without vengeance, without…gurg!"

The other man had crossed the room as quick as a flash and had his accomplice—Teddy –pressed up against the wall with a hand around his throat.

"Don't you ever talk about me, or Annie, or the kids in that way ever again. Is that clear?" The man breathed in an alarmingly deadly whisper.

A furious nod.

"I said, is that clear?"

The man eased up on his death-grip on the other man's throat.

"Yes!" the other man squeaked.

"Good."

A thud as the man was dropped to the floor.

Silence.

"Yes?"

"So… what did you steal?"

A cocky grin.

"Oh, Andy, I think you will be very please with my latest… asset."

.

.

"Hey, Garcia, I've got some cross referencing Hotch wants to have by… Baby Girl, are you ok?

Penelope Garcia jumped up from when she had been slouched in her computer chair, weeping.

"Yeah…totally fine (sniffle). What was it that- ah- you…Hotch needed to get done?"

Morgan raised a dubious eyebrow.

Penelope could feel herself crumble. Her barriers fell down and her eyes filled with tears once more. Sobbing, she stepped into Derek's warm embrace.

"Sh, sh, it's ok Baby Girl, it's gonna be ok." Humming and whispering wordless phrases filled with comfort and reassuring calmness, Derek eventually calmed Garcia down until her sobbing had turned into an occasional sniff.

"I miss them."

"Me too."

Penelope allowed herself one more minute of contentment in Morgan's affectionate hug, then stepped out and gave him a bright and saucy grin.

"So what does my Chocolate Thunder need today?"

Morgan chuckled. "That's my girl.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Sorry for the wait, but updates will continue to be sporadic at best until the story picks up. Thanks for all the reviews and please click the shiny new button below!


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